


if you're too good for us, you'll be good riding solo

by dankobah



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, country wedding, no seriously this is the most yeehaw thing i'll post, yeehaw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-05-19 01:40:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19346965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dankobah/pseuds/dankobah
Summary: A shower runs in the attached bathroom and she glances back to Rose.  “Come help me build this fire. Make sure to put on better boots.”Rey is ashamed, “These and the cowboy boots are all I got.”“Oh, honey.”  Rose pats her back before giggling, then glancing her up and down.“You’ll do, city slicker.  Come on. We’ll take the Jeep.”  Rey forgets the distances between things in the country, even on the property.  Maybe the Jeep’s suspension will keep them from flipping over in muck.Regardless, Rey isn’t ready.





	if you're too good for us, you'll be good riding solo

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ArdeaJestin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArdeaJestin/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A shower runs in the attached bathroom and she glances back to Rose. “Come help me build this fire. Make sure to put on better boots.”
> 
> Rey is ashamed, “These and the cowboy boots are all I got.”
> 
> “Oh, honey.” Rose pats her back before giggling, then glancing her up and down. 
> 
> “You’ll do, city slicker. Come on. We’ll take the Jeep.” Rey forgets the distances between things in the country, even on the property. Maybe the Jeep’s suspension will keep them from flipping over in muck. 
> 
> **Regardless, Rey isn’t ready. ******

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome to the yeehaw fic that isn't so yeehaw. it's still me, so there's gonna be some city seriousness in there, but im excited to get this show on the road for you guys. 
> 
> the original prompt:  
> When Rey left her small hometown after high school seeking an exciting life in the city, she vowed never to return. But when Rose, her best friend from high school, marries Finn and invites her to her summer country wedding, Rey can't turn her down. There she runs into Ben.
> 
> tags:  
> alcohol use  
> abuse mention  
> vomit mention (rey gets drunk, someone help her)  
> bonfires  
> guns

Rose makes it so fucking hard to resist.

Whether it's an exaggerated pout or doe eyes, Rose Tico knows how to get what she wants.  Regardless if it kills the other party’s promises to themselves. Rey  _ adores  _ New York City; she loved NYU upon her hasty attendance to get the fuck out of Thayne, Wyoming.  She’s made a life for herself with her teaching certification, get opportunities to teach elementary schoolers that she adores.

But when Rose revealed she got engaged to Rey’s other high school best friend, Finn, the promises to remain in NYC tumbled away.  She told herself she wouldn’t go back, too many old ghosts. Except now, ticking down to seven days until what she’s lovingly termed “W-day,” she has to go home.

Jackson Hole airport is nothing like LaGuardia or JFK, dinkier and filled with cowboy hats or the rogue celebrity trying to lay low.  It’s humid when she drags her bags out of the back of the shiny red pickup truck that Han Solo can’t help but pat the hood every time he passes.  The man is funny, to say the least, his love for his car eclipsing all of space and time. Rey doesn’t bother in retracting the handle on the roller suitcase, gravel crunching under her feet and baking through her ratty Doc Martens.  

Her cowboy boots (a request from Rose, for wedding pictures) are stowed safely in her duffle bag over her shoulder.  Maybe she overpacked for seven days in nowheresville, but she can’t help but fear her clothes getting dusty and caked with mud from the Wyoming summer rainstorms.

Especially at the sight that rolls up on an ATV.

“Rey bae!”

Rose is riding behind Finn on the back of a bright green ATV.  Before Rey can run, Rose is getting off and smashing her into a hug, getting her front caked in a little mud by proximity.  The shorter girl barely cares as she holds Rey at an arm’s distance. “Look at you. Your freckles are already out.”

Finn guffaws and revs the ATV.  “Go put your bags in the room and have fun with us.  We’re down by the creek.” As much as she wants to swallow mud, she’d rather lay back in bed and scream over the turbulent plane ride and bumpy drive on the way here.  Not get on an equally bouncy ATV.

But it’s Rose’s god damn wedding.

“We’ll send Ben to pick you up.”

Ben?  Who the fuck is Ben?

Her confusion must be clockable because Finn’s brows furrow also.  “Ben Solo. You know Ben Solo.” Does she? Sure, the name rings some bell in her psyche, but she can put her finger on why it does.  

Regardless, “I can ride my own ATV.  Just point me in that direction.”

Rose looks back at her fiance before holding out her hand to Rey.  “I need to get a fire going. You can play ATVs with the boys tomorrow when all the rest of the girls get here.”  Other bridesmaids. Goody.

All of them are guaranteed from high school; something Rey doesn’t want to recall.  All the braces and acne, the dumb jocks and cowboys she dated. New York is much more busy, bustling with all sorts and providing teaching opportunities that aren’t in some hick town that can’t even fathom anything but creationism.  

It’s better that she got out of Wyoming.  The fact that she’s back is laughable.

“Am I the only girl-”

“Besides me, yes.  Don’t worry, only four other boys besides Finn are here.  Paige, Kaydel, and Jessika show up tomorrow.” Rose is already heading towards the cavernous front door that Han Solo disappeared behind.  She envies Han, his ability to detach from the wedding. It's going to be her life this next week, from now until the moment she steps back onto the plane to go home to New York.

Only seven days.

She could survive that, easy.  

“So who owns this place?”  Rey is going in blind, a huge mistake on her part but she can’t change that now.  They step into the cavernous entryway, tiled with slate and paneled with pine. Wherever there isn’t pine is a luxe green color, an archway opening up to an equally large living room.  

They pass all of it like it’s only a flat in Queens.  Rose takes the stairs two at a time, looking back at Rey as she heaves her bags up each step.  “The Solo-Organas. Ben’s their son.” Ah, the mysterious Ben. She reaches the top step and Rose grabs the rolling suitcase from her, the aluminum face bumping against her muddy legs and smearing across.

“Oops.”  She keeps going regardless, and Rey shucks her backpack further up her shoulder.

Rose stops.  “So a little problem here.”

Oh god.  

“This house only has six bedrooms.  Han and Leia have separate rooms. That leaves four rooms.”

No.  Oh, hell no.

“So you’ll have to share with one of the boys since they’ve all claimed their rooms before everyone else.”  

Shoot her in the head.  Rey can deal with sharing a room with girls in the foster home, but boys?  Dirty, muddy, country boys? It’s deplorable. But she swallows the fact down with a faux smile, reaching to ruffle Rose’s hair.

“No problem.”

Rose leans in to whisper in her ear, “I suggest Ben’s room.  It’s bigger and there’s a walk-in closet you can hide in.” Rey’s not used to having to hide in a closet but for some privacy, she’ll do anything.  

“Consider it done.”  Rose beams before starting to walk again, leading her to the last door down the right hallway.  It’s pine like the rest of the house and unlocked as Rose pushes it open with her foot. The room is large, a king bed dominating the space with a tiny desk shoved in the corner.  Nothing personal sits atop the dresser.

A shower runs in the attached bathroom and she glances back to Rose.  “Come help me build this fire. Make sure to put on better boots.”

Rey is ashamed, “These and the cowboy boots are all I got.”

“Oh, honey.”  Rose pats her back before giggling, then glancing her up and down.  

“You’ll do, city slicker.  Come on. We’ll take the Jeep.”  Rey forgets the distances between things in the country, even on the property.  Maybe the Jeep’s suspension will keep them from flipping over in muck. Regardless, Rey isn’t ready as she grabs her portable charger.  She figures she can go back and hide away when it becomes too country for her liking. Maybe when someone breaks out the guitar.

The Jeep is loaded up with all sorts of fun things, liquor and beer stacked on top of each other.  What catches her eyes are telling pelican cases. “Guns?”

She’s not anti-gun by any means, given she owns one for her apartment.  But liquor and guns never mix well, and frankly, scare the shit out of her.  “Hux insisted. Talk to him if you have a problem.” Rose is hopping into the bright orange Jeep wrangler, adjusting the seat to accommodate her short stature.  Rey shoulders her way into the open air passenger seat, buckling in.

“Hey, ladies!”  The voice gets her attention, looking up to greet a very dirty Poe Dameron.  He runs up to the car.  

“Miss Rey Kenobi, you look marvelous.  New York agrees with you.” Poe slams his hand on the hood of the Jeep and Rose starts it.  

“Be careful with her.  She’s had a couple of rough days recently.”

Rey’s eyebrows raise, “This is your Jeep?”  

“The one.  Her name is Bebe.  Eight-cylinder little wonder.”  Leave it to Poe to get the flashiest Jeep known to man.  The top is off, and Rey’s glad she’s dragged her hair back into a signature three buns, despite knowing they’ll get ruffled anyway.

Poe steps away from the Jeep.  “I’ll hitch a ride with Ben. I’m excited to see this fire.”

“We were gonna barbecue, but it’s getting too late for that.  Finn said he'd start the smoker tonight.” Finn’s interpretation of Texas-style barbecue is something she’s missed, no restaurant able to mimic it.  Rey can’t help but lick her lips.  

Poe rubs his hands together before also studying Rey.  “Have fun city slicker.” She doesn’t look so New York does she?  Doc Martens and leggings aren’t indicative of much, neither is the cropped pullover sweatshirt that reads Adidas in small white letters near the neck.  Before Rey can snark back, Rose slams on the gas and they’re off. Rey holds onto the bar above her head as they hit the rough field terrain. There’s a clear driving path, but it’s still pitted.

At least the sunset is beautiful, the high mountains in the distance painted with pink and purple, orange tinging the edges as the sun peeks from behind the boulder filled faces of the Rocky Mountains.  The grass is tall out here, but they hit a clearing soon enough, where Rose stops the Jeep and hops out.

“So how have you been?”  What a loaded question. Rey steps out and helps Rose lift all the liquor out, making a point to avoid the guns.  They bring the boxes and bottles out to the fire pit, wood already stacked up in a bonfire formation. Rose dismantles it quickly.

“Love Ben, but we can build a better fire than that.”

This elusive Ben again, who the hell is he?  “I’m good. Teaching.” It’s a diplomatic answer.

Rose adjusts the stones around the fire pit before sprinkling twigs on the ground.  “What about you?”

Rose blushes.  “Well I’m getting married, and I’m an Equine Vet.  Life couldn’t be better.”

“So you’re not nervous at all?”  Rey can’t imagine getting married, a reason why this wedding is such an out of body experience for her.  Rose is getting married. Miss “tequila shot on the noon of our graduation” is about to walk down the aisle with Mr. “rah rah I joined the cheer squad for a dare”.

Both of them are her best friends, the only ones she kept in contact with when she moved away from this tiny town.  “Definitely not. It feels more like a dream than anything.” Rose dumps gasoline across newspaper before beginning on the wood.  Rey takes the liberty of helping, even as the sun disappears and leaves them in the dusk where crickets chirp. There’s also an occasional firefly.  

The fire roars after more finagling.  A midnight black truck pulls up while Rose and Rey are looking at a log to attempt to lift (the group needs a bench after all), headlights clicking off and emergency brake pulling right next to the Jeep.  “Oh, Ben and Poe.”

Poe gets out first, nearly leaping from the lifted truck and onto his feet like a cat.  “Oh, fuck yeah. Look at this fire-”

Rey’s hearing whites out as the other man gets out of the driver’s side.  Now she recognizes Ben Solo. The weird and quiet kid that was a senior when she was only a freshman has become a genuinely large brick house in the ten years since they last saw each other in the hallways.

It had been two weeks before senior graduation, witnessing jocks try to shove his lanky and unrelenting tall frame into a locker after hours.  She had been waiting for Unkar to pick her up (he never ended up picking her up, she had to walk home in the rain). Rey knew she couldn’t exactly go full superman, not for a man who dwarfs her.

So she dropped her textbook on the linoleum floor, making them scatter like birds hearing a gunshot.  That’s the only time they connected eyes, relieved and whimsied whiskey upon a naive chartreuse green.

Now he’s as big as those jocks, maybe even broader with a thick torso present beneath a black tee, biceps stretching out the sleeves.  The heavy utilitarian combat boots hit the grass, crunching beneath his feet. He’s unusually handsome in the firelight, big ears curtained behind fluffy raven black hair.  His jaw maintains a delicate balance between harsh angles and a soft roundness, while his nose is straight as an arrow.

A plump lower lip is pulled between his teeth, and Rose elbows her.  “Right?”

“Shut up, Rose.”

Poe springs over while Ben lumbers, not looking at anything but the ground.  She wants to study his face more, maybe even speak to him. “Where’s my fiance?”

“Looking for a fucking guitar.  He and my dad got into a tuning argument, so we just left him.”  Ben’s voice is deep, feeling like velvet on her cheeks. There’s a way he carries himself, posture straight, that reeks seriousness.

Rose groans before walking back to the fire, leaving Rey with the two men.  That’s when his eyes land on her, and Rey waits for a form of recognition. There’s nothing, except his eyes blowing a little wide and his mouth parts.  Does she look that crazy? All the traveling must’ve gotten to her. “I’m Ben.”

Oh.  “Rey.”  She takes his outstretched hand to shake, making sure she matches his firmness.  Their hands linger a little too long to the naked eye, and she makes sure to rip hers back to her side.  Wyoming isn’t the place to make a connection like that.

He doesn’t recognize her anyway.  Rey brushes off her front and has a hard time looking up again.  “Wanna do a shot?” Poe is a lifesaver, and she nods, Ben walking away to linger by the fire.

Poe snorts, “You two are...interesting to watch.”

Rey jabs him in the side as they walk to the mountain of liquor.  “We don’t have shot glasses.”

“Miss Rey, we’re doing this the old way.  You don’t need a chaser.” She might’ve not in freshman year but now she’s refined, and significantly vomitier around cheap liquor.  Jack Daniels isn’t known for being the pinnacle of taste.

But she bites anyway, watching Poe uncap it.  He sucks his teeth.

“Down the hatches.”

“Aye aye, captain.”

{🐴 🤠 🐴 🤠 🐴 🤠 🐴 🤠 🐴 🤠 🐴 🤠 🐴 🤠 🐴 🤠 🐴 🤠 🐴 🤠}

With the right amount of whiskey, Rey comes alive.

She can’t stop grooving with Poe to the guitar that Finn poorly strums, circling the fire with wiggling movements that only two nearly black out people can complete.  They barely pay attention to the others, at Hux and Mitaka loading round after round plenty of yards away, shooting clay pigeons unsuccessfully in the dark.  

Ben Solo, who hasn’t said many words, sits in the bed of his truck with a Whiteclaw and a neutral expression on his face unlike most she’s seen.  Poe breaks away to get another drink, leaving Rey alone and at her whims.

And Ben Solo looks mighty tempting to talk to.  Rey can’t feel her face as she skips over there, wanting to hop up into the bed but restraining herself to standing before him.  He refocuses on her, pulling his legs into the truck.

“Hello, Ben Solo.”  God, she hopes she’s not slurring.

Ben plays along.  “Rey Kenobi.”

The addition of her surname is a shock.  “Hey, how’d you get my last name?”

“Wedding invite list.  Also, you’re kinda staying in my parent’s house.”  He sips from his beer and she holds out her hand expectantly.

He ignores it; she can’t help but pout.  “Also, your room.”

“Yeah, I figured that out pretty quick.  Gotta love Rose.”

“I’m gonna sleep in your closet.”

Ben’s eyebrows knit together and she swears she sees a flash of concern.  “I’m going down to the living room couch, no worries.”

She doesn’t want to kick him out of his room but a bed does sound pretty appealing.  To prove her point, she yawns. Then, “Where’d you come from, Kenobi?”

She shrugs, “New York City.  What about you, Solo?” She pokes his bicep, the first contact since the handshake that makes her a little woozy.  Maybe it’s double vision but he’s stunning beneath the moonlight.

“Well, that’s very complicated.”

“Very mysterious.”

“I’m off my second tour in Afghanistan.”

Oh.  Ben's right, very convoluted.  Rey straightens up now, setting her chin high.  “Thank you for your service.”

She swears his cheeks redden under the firelight and she takes that as an invitation to sit up on the bed of the truck, legs astride.  

“You going back?”  

Ben looks over at her and she hopes she didn’t overstep her boundaries.  “No, I’m not.”

He looks wistful before looking back at his beer.  Rey hums and kicks her feet, head swimming and the ground tilting on its axis.  “Are you a bridesmaid, I assume?”

“Yes.  Here for all the girly stuff.’

“You sound delighted.”  Rey shrugs. Maybe she’s never been one for dresses or mani-pedis or cheesy Pinterest weddings.  But it’s Rose and Finn, and she’s a fantastic bridesmaid because they’re her friends.

Thankfully Paige took over maid of honor.  “I’m honored. What about you, groomsman?”

Ben snorts, not quite a full laugh.  She wants to invite one, badly. “Poe roped me into this.  And well, Finn seems to want me too, for some reason.” He says it like it’s a mystery, a point of confusion that his eyebrows furrow further over.  

“But I’m honored also.  It’s weird to think about.”  He sighs while looking up at the sky, and she lays back in the bed of the truck.  It’s to keep the ground from rotating under her, whiskey hitting all at once and feeling like a freight train.

“You alright?”

Is she?  “Can you take me back to the house?”

Ben comes into her view to stare down at her, and she tries very hard not to let the vomit crawl further up her throat.  Puking in front of someone so pretty is a cardinal sin.  

She musters a, “Can’t drive like this.”

“No, you can’t.  Are you gonna puke on my seats?”

She wants to promise she won’t but there’s no such thing in the whiskey-drunk world.  “Um-”

“You’re puking in a trash bag if you do.  Come on and get up front.” She sits up fast and immediately shoves her head between her knees.  Her head is spinning and flipping over, but she holds steady. Hopping off the bed, she stumbles for a second before he grabs her waist.

His hands are strong, her drunken stupor runs wild and she backs up into him to rub herself against him.  “You’re wasted. I’m taking you back and you’re going to bed.” Rey stops, eyes blowing wide when she realizes her tryst.

“Sorry.”

“You need some sleep.  Get used to the altitude.”  What a cop-out, given there’s barely any altitude until you get to the steep mountains in the distance.  You can’t see them in the dark, only the moon high in the sky and peeking through the silvery grey clouds.  She nods, however, and steps away from him to get into the truck. It’s shakier but she manages to get to the door, staring down at the lifted wheels.

There’s no way-

He’s lifting her then, just under her ribs, and shoving her onto the bench seat. Usually, she’d be mortified, drunk her can’t help but be grateful. “Thank you.” Why does he have such a big truck?  Is he compensating?

Does Ben Solo have a small dick?  Why does she care? Why is it worrying her?

“No problem.  Trash bag?” He holds out the black utility plastic bag, the kind that you put in school cafeterias.  She takes it and keeps him from closing the passenger door.

“Ben, don’t truck owners normally have... tiny dicks?  Like a sliding scale of a big truck, small dick.” She doesn’t bother with feeling humiliated, more focused on the potential of such a huge man being less endowed.  Why the fuck does she care again?

Not like they’re fucking.

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.  My dick is fine.” He shuts the door when she lets him, her eyes narrowing.  Fine? That has to mean something.

He gets into the driver's side, and the truck roars to life, her head lolling off to look at the window.  She has the trash bag poised at the ready in case she needs to upchuck quick. It reminds her of sophomore year, Poe’s car rumbling beneath her as she vomited in a tiny Chinese takeout bag all the way home.  That night had been a mix of tequila and bourbon, soaking her liver in intrinsically radioactive waste. “I’m sorry if I offended you.”  

She yawns after she says it, crossing her arms over her chest to shut her eyes.  “You’re okay. Don’t tilt your neck that way. You’ll for sure throw-up.” The truck slows and she’s being adjusted on the bench seat to lay her head against his shoulder.  

“Much better.  Right?” Admittedly so.  

Her eyes flutter shut, and she’s not sure if its sleep or blacking out momentarily from liquor, but next thing she knows, she’s being picked up and slung over a shoulder.  Her eyes open blearily, double vision painting the house into two luxe specters. If country living were always like this, she would’ve stayed in this tiny town to rot.

Instead, it had been dirty, overcrowded and abusive.  Unkar Plutt is not someone she can think about while hammered.

“First casualty?”

Han Solo sits on the porch and Rey keeps her mouth shut but her eyes open.  Ben doesn’t set her down. “You know whiskey. I’m taking her to bed and going back.”  She’s not a baby; she makes her point by wriggling. Ben holds her tight still, passing his father and nudging the door open.

The house is warmer than outside, which brings nausea back like something fierce.  “Ben, I’m gonna-” She’s off of him in a flash and there’s a trash bag thrust in front of her.  Rey swallows vomit back down and tries to stand up straighter.

“I’m not that drunk.”

“Bullshit.  Your eyes are crossed.”

“Can I go to bed?”

“Long as you don’t puke in it.”

“Don’t you know me?  I would  _ never _ .”  Her emphasis is futile, but she steps forward anyway.  Her finger pokes his massive chest and she smacks her lips.  Her mouth is so dry.

“This is worse than the barracks.”  She decides to start  **crawling** up the stairs, bringing her empty trash bag along like a lion with a gazelle carcass.  He can only follow her, all the way to his room. Rey hears the door slam and takes the opportunity to stand up and start taking off her clothes.

“Some warning first?”

She’s completely forgotten about her lack of bra, remembering just as she pulls her sweatshirt over her head and looks down at two pebbled nipples.  That’s why he’s acting so matronly.

“Oh boo you.  Breasts are perfectly natural.”

“I know that.  I just need some warning first.”

Her sarcasm drips like a leaky tap, “So you can get your cock out?”  She takes the time to unzip her messily packed duffle, rifling through all sorts of panties and t-shirts, landing on a cheesy NYC tee.  She had gotten it on a college tour many moons ago. Everyone knows that real New Yorkers wouldn’t be caught dead in touristy shit on the street.  Then she grabs a black thong, without thinking of the sleeping situation and what signals she could be sending to the tall, dark, and handsome man before her.

To gain clarity, “I go downstairs, right?”

Ben shakes his head at her, eyes averted to the window as her leggings and Doc Martens come off next.  She switches out her unmentionables and feels the soft tee coast across her front. “My bed. You’re sleeping on your side.”

“Sounds boring, captain.”

“Lieutenant.” 

“Same thing.”

“Hardly.  Get in bed, Rey.”  She obliges and hops into the bed, pulling the covers up by herself and flipping onto her side.  A trash can is set before her, and then a sticker covered Nalgene bottle on the nightstand. “I’ll bring you some orange juice and Advil in the morning.  Unless you somehow make it to breakfast.”

Rey doubts she’ll make it.  He still takes the time to pull the covers up to her chin, leaving her in a nest of drunk contentment and care.  “Goodnight, Ben Solo.”

“Goodnight, Rey Kenobi.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thoughts and feelings are welcome @ [twitter](https://twitter.com/dankobah) and [tumblr](https://dankobah.tumblr.com/). 
> 
> work title is inspired by ["high horse" by kacey musgraves](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_fjfo256p6s)  
> chapter title is inspired by ["butterflies" kacey musgraves](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9Iki2RFbcTk)
> 
> leave a comment, i get whiskey drunk and look at them a lot.
> 
> links:  
> [thayne, wyoming](http://www.thayne-wy.com/)  
> [here's the land](https://www.realtor.com/realestateandhomes-detail/Ox-Bow-Reserve_Thayne_WY_83127_M86594-45697?view=qv)  
> [here's the house (yes they own a 29 million dollar ranch estate, they also have horseys believe it or not, these rich fucks)](https://www.realtor.com/realestateandhomes-detail/Aspen_CO_81611_M10289-61755?view=qv)


End file.
